


First Sunday of August

by blue_bees



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Just a silly gang hangin' out fic, STNetwork gift exchange, Stnetwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9284120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_bees/pseuds/blue_bees
Summary: A gift for regulationblues on tumblr (IntuitivelyFortuitous) for the STNetwork gift exchange. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IntuitivelyFortuitous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntuitivelyFortuitous/gifts).



The first sign of anything being amiss was the package, wrapped in bright paper, sitting outside his door. Spock inspected it with interest. It was reminiscent of traditional human birthday gifts, he noted, or the gifts exchanged during their holiday season. That it was for him was obvious, even  without the tag on top—“For Spock,” it said, in Jim's handwriting—but he couldn't imagine why. The captain knew it wasn't his birthday, he didn't celebrate Christmas, and even disregarding that, it was August by the Terran calendar. There seemed to be no logical reason, no precedent, for the gift. Curious.

He took it inside his room and carefully unwrapped it, marveling at the impracticality of replicating that much colored paper for the express purpose of hiding a gift meant to be opened. The paper could always be recycled, its atoms reused in some other more useful item, but the energy it took to  create the paper in the first place and then to break it down again afterwards would be forever lost. Human sentimentality was so often so wasteful.

He cast the paper aside and immediately all thoughts of wastefulness left his mind. Inside the package lay a traditional Vulcan sleeping robe, folded lovingly into a square. He froze for a moment, then gently ran a hand over the fabric, then unfolded it and held it up to the light. A momentary shadow of some emotion—disappointment, perhaps?—crossed his mind as he realized that it was replicator-made, not authentic, but he dismissed it. Replicator fabric was stronger and lasted longer, after all, and it was a beautiful copy; a copy that would have taken the captain much time and resources to find authentic designs for. He looked it over again and refolded it, placing it on his bed. He would have to conform to the human tradition of expressing thanks for a gift, he supposed. Strangely, the thought was somehow almost pleasant.

 

“Captain, I would desire to notify you that I received your gift, an-” Spock had barely exited the turbolift before Kirk spun his chair jubilantly to meet him.

“Spock!” the captain crowed, his entire face lighting up in a grin. He stood and clasped the Vulcan’s shoulders, grin spreading further as he saw Spock’s barely contained look of astonishment. “You’re looking great today, simply amazing. How  _ do _ you do it?”

Spock blinked once or twice and Kirk could almost read the words  _ does not compute _ scrolling behind his eyes. “I... was not aware that my appearance was different today, captain.”

“Well! So it isn’t! Yes, yes, of course. Surely what I meant to say was that you are looking today as you always do: perfect.” He made a show of looking meticulously over Spock’s head. “Not a hair out of place. Must be that Vulcan magic of yours.”

Spock was becoming increasingly befuddled, as hard as he tried to hide it. “Ah… Jim, I wished to… thank you, as is your custom, but also to inquire about the significance of the gift that you have so kindly bestowed-”

“What, is it a crime to show a little appreciation for one’s first officer?” Kirk made a face of mock indignation. “Particularly when he’s the best one in the fleet. Oh, and on that note, you are relieved of duties today. I’ve put us all on shore leave. Bethadasa VII, wonderful place.”

Spock’s eyebrows finally could no longer take the strain and decided to escape to higher ground. Kirk smiled serenely at him.

“Report to the transporter room in an hour, and I’ll see you there.” He patted the Vulcan on the shoulder and turned back to the viewscreen. “You deserve an off day.”

Spock stood transfixed for a moment, then turned on his heel and returned to the turbolift. There was only one place to go in situations such as these.

 

McCoy watched Spock walk into sickbay and had to suppress a grin. The green-blooded Vulcan probably thought he was being subtle about it, but his face was written over with consternation. McCoy laid down his tricorder and walked over.

“Now, something has got your pointy ears in a twist, and I bet I know exactly what it is. Jim, right? It’s got to be.”

“You’ve noticed his… odd behavior as well, doctor?”

“How could I not? The man practically pranced into sickbay this morning, handed me a flask of Saurian brandy with a bow on it, told me I was relieved of my duties for today, and was gone as soon as he came. Walking on sunshine, all rainbows and sunbeams.” He made a sarcastic gesture with his hands. “Like it was damn Christmas, or Hannukah or whatever.”

“Do you believe him to be of sound mind and body?”

“Well, the jury’s out on whether the man was of sound mind to begin with,” McCoy said.

Spock fixed him with a gaze. “Doctor, in your medical opinion, is the captain completely healthy?”

McCoy stared back, incredulous. “You’re not saying you think he’s dying of some deadly disease and wants to spend his final days being insufferably kind to his first officer and CMO?”

“Anything is a possibility, doctor.”

“Of all the ridiculous, hare-brained— He’s fine, Spock. I already checked, just in case. Healthy as a horse, even if he could stand to lose a pound or two. Or five.”

They stood in silence, pondering.

“Well,” McCoy remarked, “I suspect we’ll find out in about forty-five minutes, won’t we. Shore leave.”

“Indeed,” Spock replied, as much in the dark as he’d been before he’d begun wondering.

 

“Gentlemen,” said Kirk, shading his eyes from the cheerful Bethadasian sun to give an equally cheerful look to the two men who’d just beamed down next to him.

“All right, Jim, enough with the funny business,” McCoy said. “What’s going on? I saw that you marked this on the crew schedule as a ship holiday. Shore leave for all. Something about this day…”

Kirk clapped him on the back. “Excellent sleuthing, Bones!” he congratulated.

“Oh, come off it, Jim. What is it? What’re you up to?”   
“I want you to guess what day it is.”

“Spock’s birthday?” suggested McCoy, squinting a little bit into the sun. “Isn’t that in August?”

Spock turned to him. “Doctor, ‘August’ is a month of the Terran calendar. The Vulcan year consists of far more than 365 days, and therefore will not line up consistently with any month of the-”

“Oh, fine, we get it,” McCoy bristled. “You could’ve just said ‘No’, you know.”

Kirk chuckled. “Two more guesses.”

“Your birthday?” McCoy asked, then shook his head. “No, that was a couple of months ago. My birthday?” He frowned. “All right, I’m just grasping at straws here. What is it?”

“Today,” Kirk said, drawing it out, savoring it, “is Interplanetary Friendship Day.”

Both McCoy and Spock’s eyebrows flew up in such perfect synchrony that Kirk laughed. “Friendship day,” he said. “We have days for the rise and fall of federations, species’ first contact, mothers, fathers, starship captains, why not a day for friends?”

McCoy was just barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes straight out of his skull. “And here I thought it was something important,” he said.

“Oh, it is! Don’t you see? It’s one thing to have a crew that works, runs well, and another thing to have a crew that you can care about, a crew you can trust. You need that, to make a ship more than the sum of its parts.” He threw an arm over each of their shoulders. “And you two…” Kirk smiled at both of them, eyes shining. “You two are just what I need.”

Spock and McCoy met eyes, an amused smile breaking across the doctor’s face. “Well, Spock?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“A fascinating custom,” Spock said, face completely deadpan.

“Well, I think it’s the damned corniest thing I’ve ever heard,” McCoy said cheerfully. “So. Where can one get a nice cold glass of something sustaining around here?”

“I know just the place,” Kirk responded with a wink. “Spock, are you coming? I hope this ‘fascinating’ custom isn’t too mushy and human for you.”

“I may find it, as the doctor so aptly puts it, ‘corny’, but I would be privileged to accompany you. Perhaps such a break might prove beneficial in your company.”

Kirk’s smile could outshine the dazzling sun above. “In that case, then,” he said, “let’s go!”


End file.
